Really, Sofia had had no intention of reading a newspaper on the short hop back to San Rinaldo. The only thing she’d planned on doing was just sitting there happily reminiscing about their. three wonderful days in London. But one of the catering staff had brought aboard a newspaper at Geneva, then left it on the table near where Sofia was sitting, and, as these things happen, it suddenly caught Sofia’s eye and she reached across and picked it up.
. It was that morning’s edition of a local newspaper. Idly, Sofia was about to start flicking through it. But she paused with a frown as something on the front page caught her eye, and it was at that moment, just as the plane started to climb up into the sky again, that she felt as though the heavens had come crashing down on her head.
For there on the front page was a photograph of Lady Fiona, taken on her arrival at Geneva airport last night, plus a couple of lines explaining that the glamorous San Rinaldan was planning to spend a few days in the city with ‘friends’.
Friends. Sofia stared blindly at the printed words for a moment, feeling rage and pain rise up inside her in an uncontrollable hot, physical shaft. And as her fingers turned to dust the newspaper fell to the floor.
So this was why Damiano hadn’t wanted her to join him for the first few days of his Geneva visit. As he had said, he would be too busy. Though not too busy with work. What he would be too busy with was his favourite leisure-time activity. Fiona.
Sofia breathed deeply, struggling to control herself. So this was how it was going to be? Instead of being cast aside totally, as she had been for the past five months, she was now to be fitted in around the time he spent with Lady Fiona. In reality, he was still no more hers than he had ever been. He was simply offering her a slightly more generous slice of his time.
Well, maybe that was his plan, but it simply wasn’t on. Her brain whirring, she sat, white-faced, for the rest of the flight, staring unseeingly out of the window. He had deceived her. He had made a fool of her with his feigned tenderness and warmth. It had meant nothing. He had simply been amusing himself.
And his lovemaking? Well, that had had one scope only. To impregnate her and create a brother or sister for Alessandro. It was unspeakable and she would not be treated in this cold, cynical fashion. It was humiliating. It was insulting. And it hurt her more than she could bear.
I’ve been a fool, she told herself. I simply believed what I wanted to believe. And to think I was even mad enough to hope that something special was happening. Why, that’s funny. The joke of the decade!
But somehow she couldn’t quite manage to summon up a laugh as a tear brimmed over her lashes and splashed onto her cheek.
‘It’s His Grace the Duke, Your Grace. He wishes to speak to you.’
It was the following evening and Sofia was in her private sitting room, having just been upstairs to bid Alessandro goodnight. When the phone had rung she’d hesitated a moment before answering it, guessing that it would probably be Damiano. For over the past hour or so her private number had rung several times and she had just let it ring, dreading having to speak to him. Though she had known that, eventually, he would simply try to reach her through the palace number, which quite clearly was exactly what he had now done.
As she continued to hesitate, the voice on the palace exchange spoke again. ‘Shall I put him through, Your Grace?’ the voice wanted to know.
Sofia was tempted to say no. To instruct the voice to tell him she wasn’t available. But that would achieve nothing, for he would only keep on ringing, and anyway it would be a cowardly move on her part.
She straightened her shoulders and gripped the phone a little more tightly. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Put him through.’
‘Sofia, how are you? I’ve been trying to get you for an hour. I thought I was going to have to give up. I’ve got a dinner in twenty minutes.’
At the sound of his voice Sofia felt her heart crack inside her. Her throat filled with choking tears. Suddenly she could not speak.
‘Sofia? Are you still there? Say something, my love.’
‘My love’. That was too cruel. Who did he think he was speaking to? Fiona?
Sofia took a deep breath and pulled herself together. ‘Yes, I’m still here.’ Her tone was pleasingly cool. ‘I’m here,’ she said again. ‘What did you want?’
There was a surprised pause at the other end. ‘What do I want?’ he repeated. For her tone hadn’t been so much cool as downright icy. There was another thoughtful pause, then he demanded, ‘Are you all right?’
Sofia wanted to say no, to pour out her anger and her misery. But she stopped herself. What did he care that her heart was in pieces? Not one jot, and if she accused him he would simply bring a pack of lies to his defence.
So she said, still in that icy tone, ‘I’m perfectly fine, thanks. I’m just curious, that’s all, about why you’re calling.’
‘Surely you know why I’m calling?’ And now a touch of ice had crept into Damiano’s tone too. ‘I’m calling about the arrangements for you coming over to Geneva. I’ve fixed for you to—’
But Sofia didn’t allow him to finish. ‘Don’t bother fixing anything. I won’t be coming,’ she told him.
‘Won’t be coming? Would you mind explaining why?’
‘Surely I don’t really need to?’ Sofia’s mouth had gone quite dry and she could barely hear what she was saying for the roaring in her head. ‘If you think about it for a couple of seconds, I’m sure you can work it out for yourself.’
There was a short pause during which Sofia sensed he was about to say something. But then he seemed to change his mind and sighed impatiently instead. ‘I see.’ His tone was hard. ‘In that case,’ he continued, ‘since you refuse to explain your reasons for changing your mind, I see no point in pursuing this conversation.’
And, before she could say a thing, there was a click and the line went dead.
For a long moment after he laid the phone down, . Damiano stood and stared at it. She was right—he could guess what had brought about her change of mind, what had caused all her previous warmth towards him to ice over. For he had seen the paper too, the one with the picture of Fiona—had cursed when he had seen it and prayed that Sofia had not.
Angrily, he turned away now. Of course, he could have played along with her, offered her excuses and explanations, and, just for a moment, he’d been tempted to do so. But what was the point? They’d been through all that a hundred times. And she would never understand or accept what he told her. There was just no point in insisting any more.
He glanced at his watch as there was a tap on the door and a voice called out, ‘Your car’s ready, Your Grace.’ He really didn’t have time to dwell on these problems now. He’d only end up making himself late for dinner.
‘I’m coming!’ he called back. ‘I’ll be down in a minute.’
He crossed to the dressing table where his jacket hung from the back of a chair, slipped it on and checked his tie in the mirror. He frowned at his reflection. There’s no point in dwelling on our problems anyway, he told himself. For when it boils down to it there’s not really a great deal to dwell on. I believed that she’d changed, grown up, but clearly she hasn’t. I thought we could work something out, but that was a foolish mistake on my part. There just isn’t anything there to build on.
Impatiently, he turned away. It was a pity, but there it was. Unfortunately, one couldn’t always have what one wanted. But that was life, as they say. He headed on firm strides for the door. And he certainly didn’t intend to let it spoil his evening.
Sofia’s reaction to this sad development was considerably less sanguine. All hope was gone now. That night she cried herself to sleep.
As well as wretched, however, she was also deeply furious. For he had duped her. He had strung her along like an idiot. She’d been so happy in London, poor fool that she was. She’d even told him so, no doubt much to his cynical amusement. And she hated him for that. He was a cruel, heartless pig. And she would never forgive him as lo
ng as she lived.
Damiano’s week in Geneva passed too quickly, for Sofia would have preferred it if he’d stayed away for ever. She didn’t care what he was up to. She didn’t give a damn about Fiona. She just didn’t want to be obliged to look into his hateful face again.
But suddenly he was back. She arrived at her office one morning to be given a message from him by her secretary—a message that had come via Damiano’s secretary, for they were back to the old impersonal mode of communication again.
‘His Grace wishes to remind you about the reception this evening.’ Nina cleared her throat and added a little awkwardly, ‘I checked in your diary, Your Grace, and I see it’s been crossed out.’
Too right it had! And so had all the other joint appointments that had. been arranged as part of Project Fake Reconciliation! There was no way Sofia intended continuing that sham now, not after the cruel personal sham he’d inflicted on her! She had hoped he’d have the decency to assume that without being told, but she might have known that that was to overestimate the degree of decency he was capable of.
She frowned at Nina now. ‘Did you tell his specretary it had been cancelled?’ When the girl shook her head, she instructed, ‘Well, phone back and tell her now. Tell her there’s no way I’ll be attending that reception with the Duke.’
Nina did as she was told while Sofia sat at her desk and watched her.
‘What did she say?’ Sofia asked when Nina laid the phone down again.
‘She simply said she would pass on the message.’
Sofia smiled to herself. ‘Good.’ That ought to be the end of that.
Not so. Five minutes later the phone rang again and Sofia felt the smile inside her wilt. It just had to be Damiano’s secretary and from the grim look on Nina’s face it wasn’t hard to deduce that the news was far from good.
As Nina put the phone down at last, she enquired anxiously, ‘Well?’
‘That was the Duke’s secretary. She said she passed on your message, but that she very much regrets that His Grace is insisting that you must attend this evening’s reception with him.’ Then, as Sofia was about to demand that she phone back yet again, she added, lowering her eyes, clearly embarrassed, ‘Apparently, he said to remind you that you won’t see Alessandro if you don’t.’
Sofia felt herself blanch and her blood turn to ice. ‘He said that?’ A wave of fearful nausea swept through her. She hadn’t forgotten that threat exactly, but she had assumed that his sense of guilt at the way he had treated her would rule out any chance of his renewing it. But that had been foolish indeed. Guilt was not an emotion Damiano suffered from. In his own eyes he was justified in everything he did. He was the Duke. The all-powerful. No one else mattered, and especially not her.
Nina was looking at her, her eyes concerned. ‘Do you want me to call back?’
Sofia shook her head. ‘No, thanks.’ She glanced away. ‘Let’s just leave it like that for the moment.’
But only for the moment, she was thinking as she said it. For a rash and desperate plan was taking shape in her head.
Sofia managed to get through the rest of the morning with at least an outward semblance of normality. To all appearances she seemed perfectly calm and untroubled, but in fact her brain was switched into overdrive. She had decided what she must do now, even though it scared her half to death. But if her plan was to work she must prepare the ground with great care.
Fortunately, she had no outside appointments that day, just a couple of brief meetings in her office in the morning and a pile of papers and letters to get through in the afternoon. That made it easier, she realised gratefully, hoping this meant that fate was on her side. At least she wouldn’t have to go cancelling things and making people suspicious.
Towards lunchtime she sent Nina off on a little errand, just to get her out of the office for half an hour. Then, steeling her nerves, she picked up the phone and punched in the number of Damiano’s office.
His secretary answered. ‘I’d like to speak to the Duke,’ Sofia told her. ‘This is the Duchess speaking.’
To her relief, for it was what she’d been praying to hear, the girl told her, ‘The Duke’s gone out, I’m afraid. Would you like to leave a message, Your Grace?’
‘Oh, dear.’ Sofia feigned regret. ‘I was hoping to see him this afternoon. Do you think that might be possible? Are there any gaps you could fit me into?’
The girl answered at once. ‘Not today, ma’am; I’m sorry. The Duke will be out on engagements all afternoon. I don’t expect him back before early evening. Perhaps I could fix something for you tomorrow, if that would be convenient?’
‘No, never mind. I’ll see him at the reception this evening. Thanks anyway.’ And Sofia laid the phone down with a smile.
Perfect, she was thinking. For an appointment to see him was actually the very last thing she’d been wanting. What she’d been after was information about his movements. And what she’d learned was precisely what she’d been hoping. He was to be out all day, so it was safe for her to go ahead with her plan.
What Sofia usually did at lunchtime, if she didn’t have a special lunch planned or if she wasn’t so busy that she simply grabbed a snack at her desk, was have a tray sent up to her private sitting room. She arranged for that now, then called Alice, Alessandro’s nanny, and told her, ‘I’d like Alessandro to join me for lunch today. Bring him along to my rooms about one o’clock.’
It was a request that she knew would raise no surprised eyebrows, for frequently, when she had the time, she would have lunch with her little son. As she put the phone down, she dared to congratulate herself. Everything was falling neatly into place.
Alice arrived with the little boy, dressed for outdoors, for they had been outside in the garden playing, just as one of the staff arrived with their lunch—spaghetti—Alessandro’s favourite—and a delicious-looking chocolate pudding.
‘When shall I come back and collect him?’ Alice wanted to know, and Sofia felt a dart of sudden panic touch her heart.
But she hid it and told the girl, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll bring him back. And we may be a little later than usual. I’ve got an extra bit of free time today.’
And she congratulated herself again. She was handling this beautifully, laying the ground to ensure that her plan worked without a hitch.
All the same, she could feel herself growing more and more nervous as the time approached to make her move and she barely ate more than a couple of forkfuls of spaghetti and didn’t even bother to try and force down the chocolate pudding, though she was pleased to see that Alessandro seemed quite oblivious of her mounting tension and gobbled down his own lunch with his usual gusto.
Usually when they had lunch together she would play with him for a while afterwards before he went off to have his siesta. And that was what she did now, taking a pile of games from the toy cupboard. It was better that he stay awake. There’d be plenty of time for him to sleep later.
For in about an hour, while the rest of the palace was sleeping—it was common practice to take a short siesta after lunch—she would gather up her son and make her escape. And long before Damiano got to hear of her disappearance she would be safe in her parents’ castle, just an hour’s drive from Rino. A tense excitement filled her. She would teach Damiano a lesson. He couldn’t bully her and he would never separate her from Alessandro!
Just after two-thirty she dressed him in his anorak and shoes again—what a stroke of luck that he’d had his outdoor clothes with him!—then she pulled on a pair of ankle boots and a plaid wool jacket and gathered the child up into her arms.
‘OK, let’s go,’ she told him, her heart in her mouth. ‘Let’s go and pay Grandma and Grandpa a visit.’
A moment later they were heading along the corridor and down the stairs, Sofia hurrying as though the hounds of hell were after her—which was precisely the way she was feeling!
Her car was parked in a courtyard at the back of the palace and as she stepped outside her heart wa
s beating like a tom-tom. She was nearly there. Only a few more steps to go and then she would be on her way and nothing would be able to stop her.
The courtyard was deserted. Sofia reached in her bag for her keys, found them, and pulled the rear passenger door open. ‘Let’s just strap you in the back now,’ she told Alessandro, stooping to place him carefully in the child seat. But it was at that precise moment that a voice behind her spoke.
‘Give the child to me,’ it said. ‘Alessandro’s going nowhere.’ And before she could do a thing her son was being snatched from her grasp.
A cloud of blackness seemed to descend on her. Stiffly, Sofia turned to face him. ‘Damiano!’ she breathed in horror, her cheeks parchment-pale.
What she saw as she looked at him was a mask of barely controlled fury. The black eyes blazed at her as though he might tear her to pieces. ‘Where were you planning to take him?’ he demanded.
‘To my parents’.’ Her lips were bloodless. She could scarcely force the words out. Then something cracked inside her. ’Damn you! How did you know? And what right have you to stop me taking my son to visit his grandparents?’
Damiano’s eyes slashed through her. ‘I have every right,’ he told her coldly, ‘to stop my son from being abducted. For that’s what you were doing. Don’t try to tell me otherwise.’ Then he glanced at Alessandro, his expression instantly softening. ‘Don’t worry,’ he told him, ‘we’ll visit Grandma and Grandpa some other time.’
Sofia watched, her soul in shreds, though she was pleased at least to see that Alessandro was smiling happily, totally unaware of the drama surrounding him. God, how I hate that man, she thought. And at that moment she truly did.
He did nothing to alter this sentiment as he glanced back at her. ‘I would advise you to get into your car and drive to your parents’ as you were planning. Even if you stay here you won’t be seeing your son for a while and I really think it would be wise for you to stay safely out of my reach.’ As he looked at her, his eyes were a glittering black warning.
Sofia wanted to protest, but the hate in his eyes silenced her. Scarcely knowing what she was doing, she slammed the passenger door shut and climbed in behind the wheel, feeling sick to her soul. And as she struck the key in the ignition with stiff, cold fingers she turned, fighting back the tears, to wave Alessandro goodbye.
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